Author: Sally Hepworth
Published: April 21, 2026 by St. Martin's Press
Format: Kindle, 352 Pages
Genre: Thriller
Blurb: There are two kinds of people no one ever expects to be murderers: little girls and old ladies.
Elsie Mabel Fitzpatrick is eighty-one years old. She's lived on her idyllic street for sixty years—longer than anyone else. Aside from being a curmudgeon who minds everyone else's business, few would suspect that Elsie has a past she's worked exceedingly hard at concealing—because when it comes to murder, no one ever suspects little girls or old ladies. And Elsie Mabel Fitzpatrick, once a little girl and now an old lady, has a strange history of people in her life coming to a foul end.
My Opinion: This was my first Sally Hepworth novel, so I went in without any expectations, and honestly, during the first few chapters, I wondered if I’d made a mistake. It dragged for me in a way that would send most readers quietly backing out of the book. I can’t blame them; I was right there too, hovering over the “DNF” button. However, people adore this author, so I kept going, convinced I must have been missing something.
And then the “then/now” structure begins to take effect. The heartbreaking, inevitable next-shoe-drop of Mad Mabel’s story begins to surface, and suddenly the book shifts. You start to see how someone who has never truly been cared for might build their own reality, not out of delusion, but out of sheer survival. It’s the kind of emotional logic that makes sense only when you’ve lived through loneliness long enough to forget what normal feels like.
Mabel herself? She’s not someone you’d invite over for coffee. She’s prickly, caustic, and more than a little abrasive. But that’s just the armor. Underneath is a woman who has been dismissed, judged, and condemned since birth. There are likable characters here, even a “beautiful mind” type who deserves more spotlight, but Mabel’s presence overshadows everyone except Persephone, who quietly holds the entire book together.
And then comes that creeping dread. You see the grooming long before Mabel does. You hope you’re wrong, but deep down you know you’re not. She’s so desperate to belong, to be seen, to be loved, that she walks straight into the arms of someone who recognizes that vulnerability a little too well. The sense of sickness that settles in your stomach is earned, and when the world drops out from under her again, it’s devastating.
But here’s the part I didn’t expect: the twists. What begins as a story of isolation becomes one about found family. The kind that shows up for an 81 year old woman who has never had anyone show up for her before. For the first time in her life, Mabel learns what it means not to be alone.
And those final twists? I was flipping pages like my life depended on it. Everything snaps into place with a kind of precision that made me rethink my early frustration. I’m genuinely glad I didn’t give up on Mabel; she’s had enough people do that already.
And that last line… I just sat there, stunned, mouth open, trying to process what I’d just read.
Elsie Mabel Fitzpatrick is eighty-one years old. She's lived on her idyllic street for sixty years—longer than anyone else. Aside from being a curmudgeon who minds everyone else's business, few would suspect that Elsie has a past she's worked exceedingly hard at concealing—because when it comes to murder, no one ever suspects little girls or old ladies. And Elsie Mabel Fitzpatrick, once a little girl and now an old lady, has a strange history of people in her life coming to a foul end.
My Opinion: This was my first Sally Hepworth novel, so I went in without any expectations, and honestly, during the first few chapters, I wondered if I’d made a mistake. It dragged for me in a way that would send most readers quietly backing out of the book. I can’t blame them; I was right there too, hovering over the “DNF” button. However, people adore this author, so I kept going, convinced I must have been missing something.
And then the “then/now” structure begins to take effect. The heartbreaking, inevitable next-shoe-drop of Mad Mabel’s story begins to surface, and suddenly the book shifts. You start to see how someone who has never truly been cared for might build their own reality, not out of delusion, but out of sheer survival. It’s the kind of emotional logic that makes sense only when you’ve lived through loneliness long enough to forget what normal feels like.
Mabel herself? She’s not someone you’d invite over for coffee. She’s prickly, caustic, and more than a little abrasive. But that’s just the armor. Underneath is a woman who has been dismissed, judged, and condemned since birth. There are likable characters here, even a “beautiful mind” type who deserves more spotlight, but Mabel’s presence overshadows everyone except Persephone, who quietly holds the entire book together.
And then comes that creeping dread. You see the grooming long before Mabel does. You hope you’re wrong, but deep down you know you’re not. She’s so desperate to belong, to be seen, to be loved, that she walks straight into the arms of someone who recognizes that vulnerability a little too well. The sense of sickness that settles in your stomach is earned, and when the world drops out from under her again, it’s devastating.
But here’s the part I didn’t expect: the twists. What begins as a story of isolation becomes one about found family. The kind that shows up for an 81 year old woman who has never had anyone show up for her before. For the first time in her life, Mabel learns what it means not to be alone.
And those final twists? I was flipping pages like my life depended on it. Everything snaps into place with a kind of precision that made me rethink my early frustration. I’m genuinely glad I didn’t give up on Mabel; she’s had enough people do that already.
And that last line… I just sat there, stunned, mouth open, trying to process what I’d just read.
